Dipping her toes in the water was a familiar, comforting pastime. Here, she could think clearly—and pray. She held a fishing pole in her hand, as always. Something about coming to the creek for a little quiet time always put her in a better frame of mind. Besides, she had a lot to think about today. She and Georg planned to meet in town to visit Peter Conrad at his bookshop. He would advise them about the poem, and Georg’s relationship with Corabelle could move forward as planned. Pushing thoughts of the poem out of her mind, she attempted a prayer. “Lord, I know You see all things. You know what’s going to happen long before we do. Father, I ask You to work a miracle here.” She focused her prayers on Georg and Corabelle, of course, but threw in an extra one for Samuel Bromstead and the widow Hanson. Surely if just one couple could be happily matched, her business would begin to blossom. Men would come from out of the woodwork to find wives. And the town, of course, would thrive as a result.
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